


Five People Moriarty Might Have Been

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, John is Moriarty, Moriarty!John, What if?, diverge from canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And how things could have gone differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five People Moriarty Might Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Anatomist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/139351) by [rosa_acicularis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_acicularis/pseuds/rosa_acicularis). 



> After watching 'The Great Game,' one of the first things I wondered was ' _why has no one written Moriarty!John?_ ' (I know. Not ' _what happens next,_ ' but this. Too long writing weird fic, that's why.)  
> Then I read a truly brilliant, chilling fic where Moriarty is actually two people - Jim, and his twin sister Molly.  
> And then I read the Sherlock WMG page on TV Tropes...  
> \--------

** By the pool, _The Great Game_ **

** Waiting for Moriarty **

John stepped out into sight, and for a second Sherlock couldn’t understand what he was doing there.

Then his brain darted into action – the bulky coat – the uncharacteristically blank expression – only four pips – one victim left – perhaps under the coat – 

“Evening.”

It was one word, but it was enough.

Sherlock’s brain whirred almost to a stop under the enormity of what that meant.

John’s expression was placid, undisturbed.

Strangely calm.

“This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” John asked calmly.

Sherlock breathed in, shock breaking over him like a wave.

“ _John_ ,” was all he could manage.

“Bet you never saw this coming,” John added.

“No,” said Sherlock. It wasn’t a reply, but a denial. He couldn’t believe what his brain was telling him, despite the absolute certainty of its reasoning.

John smiled, flat and composed. It was alien and utterly un-John-like.

“Come on, Sherlock. Don’t be dense. Not getting emotional, now, are you? Not _you_.”

The last word was said almost playfully, a sly jab at Sherlock’s usual scorn for sentiment.

And Sherlock knew then that his mind had reached the correct conclusion.

“Was anything of John real?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice level, and doing, he thought, a commendable job, despite the slight quiver.

John shrugged.

“Oh, a bit, here and there.” His face split into a grin. “It was rather good, wasn’t it? Dr Watson, military medic, trying to find his feet in a depressingly normal world, _idolising_ you…”

He eyed Sherlock consideringly as he spoke, watching for his reaction.

Sherlock must have given something away, because the grin spread, almost reaching the cool blue eyes.

“Sherlock Holmes. The heartless detective. No one has a _clue_ , do they?”

He said it amusedly, as thought inviting Sherlock to share in the joke, to chuckle at how stupid and unobservant people were.

Sherlock felt as though he were about to throw up.

“Was this all just a game?”

John blinked at him.

“Of course it was,” he replied mildly, looking bemused – and for a second he looked and sounded just like the man Sherlock had shared the flat with for the last two months, and Sherlock felt like his heart was being ripped out.

He’d always thought that was a ridiculous and inaccurate expression, _I felt like he ripped my heart out,_ but now he found that it was horribly, painfully true. 

“What now?” Sherlock managed.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I think it’s time to draw the game to a close,” said John, still unnaturally unperturbed.

_ Indifferent, _ Sherlock’s brain supplied. _Uncaring. Detached._

If _this_ was how he made people feel, Sherlock thought – 

“I mean, really, if nothing else, living with you has been _hell_ ,” John continued. “Never bored, though. Least there’s that. You wouldn’t believe how easily I get bored.” John paused. “Well, okay, you _would._ But this is where we go our separate ways, and Sherlock, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep out of my business. I know so much about you, now. It was really quite enlightening.”

John’s face suddenly shifted into a look almost of glee.

“Oh, and have fun explaining all this to Mycroft. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he hears I’ve been under his nose all this time, and even he bought the act.” John shook his head. “It’s like you said, Sherlock. Heroes don’t exist. And if they did, I definitely wouldn’t be one of them.”

“And that’s it,” said Sherlock.

John smiled impersonally at him.

“I’m afraid so,” he agreed. “Well, goodbye, I suppose. There’s snipers, by the way, on the roof; they'll be gone in about, five minutes, can’t have you following me.”

Before he’d finished speaking, John had already turned and begun walking towards the door at the far end of the pool.

Sherlock wanted desperately to stop him, talk to him, _something,_ but all he could do was watch helplessly as the man he had known as John Watson – Moriarty – walked out of his life.


End file.
